


Legacies

by Cusp_of_Sensitivity



Series: A Party at Madame Angel's [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Episode: s01e03 Commodities, F/M, Flashbacks, Meet-Cute, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 21:46:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7730923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cusp_of_Sensitivity/pseuds/Cusp_of_Sensitivity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paris, 1630. After returning to Paris from Le Havre, Athos finds himself needing to make sense of finding out his wife is still alive and trying to kill him. Getting on his horse, he goes to Madame Angel's, where he finds comfort in the arms of an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legacies

Athos guided his horse through the empty streets. With the day over, merchants had packed up their wares and shuttered their stalls, retiring to the upper floors where they could enjoy roaring fires and the company of their loved ones. Athos had had enough of fires lately. He and his friends had returned earlier that day from Le Havre, where they had seen the explorer Bonnaire onto a Spanish ship instead of one headed to the Caribbean to inflict damage on innocent people in the New World.

That was following their original mission to bring him back to Paris to answer charges of breaking France’s trade agreement with Spain. That journey had seen their band ambushed by Bonnaire’s business partner Meunier and Porthos injured, requiring Aramis’ needlework and sewing skills. With the severity of Porthos’ injuries threatening his life, they had no choice but to take shelter at Athos’ old manor house near Pinon. Athos hadn’t wanted to go back there, but Porthos’ life was more important. Being there had been torture, every room and object bringing back memories that he desperately wanted to forget.

After recapturing Bonnaire from his wife’s escape attempt, Athos decided to talk to Remi about Anne’s death. He founded the poor man dead in his forge, throat slit from one ear to the other. When he returned to the house, he drunk himself into a stupor, waking to find the house ablaze with the wife he thought he had killed holding the torch, ready to consign him to the flames. Fortunately for him, D’artagnan disobeyed his order to return to Paris and had come back just as Anne had the knife to his throat, and dragged him from the inferno. Watching the conflagration, still not believing that it wasn’t all a horrible dream, he confided in the younger man and allowed him to see behind the armor he had worn every day for the past five years. He spent the journey back to Paris putting that armor back in place and now that the whole episode was behind them, Athos went out in search of solace.

He considered going to his usual taverns, but what he needed was not oblivion but someone to unburden himself to. So he turned his horse off the Rue des Capucines, down the quiet street, and through the gates of the old vine covered hotel. Dismounting, he handed the reins of his horse to the footman who had come forward and walked up to the front entrance. The footmen silently opened the doors and closed them again when he passed through. Athos climbed the stairs to the main salon, hearing feminine laughter and the soft strains of music. The salon was where Madame Angel’s carefully selected clientele chose from a coterie of aristocratic beauties partners to indulge their erotic appetites with. Athos was enveloped in warm light as he entered the room, going over to where Madame Angel’s steward Gaspard stood, watching over his charges like a mother hen with her chicks. The room was richly but tastefully decorated, lacking the gaudy pornographic artworks that so many brothels indulged in, but with copious amount of female flesh on display, it wasn’t needed. The eyes of the courtesans followed his movements, wondering who would be the lucky girl to entertain this most mysterious of musketeers.

“Good evening, Gaspard,” Athos greeted the older man, who stood near a tall table which held a large book.

“Good evening, Monsieur Athos,” the steward pleasantly returned his greeting. “What can we do for you?”

“I’m here to see Clemence,” Athos told him.

“Of course,” Gaspard said, opening the book and quickly turning the pages. “It appears that she is unoccupied this evening. She is in her suite.”

“Thank you,” Athos nodded to the steward and turned, striding through the salon past the disappointed faces of the young courtesans and up the curved marble staircase that led to the suites. He walked down the corridor, his boots ringing on the polished floor, stopping in front of a pair of doors decorated with designs of apple blossoms. He knocked softly and heard a familiar voice bid him enter,

The suite he entered was blue with gold embroidered tapestries from the walls. Emerald green bedding covered the ornately carved bed that harkened back to the time of Francois I, as did the rest of the furniture. The suite reminded him of one of the suites in the manor house that was most likely a heap of ashes. It was the one his mother had occupied from the day she arrived at Pinon to marry his father, the Comte de la Fere. As a child, he had always found comfort in that room when he needed it, and now, with the shock of what had happened in Normandy, he found himself needing comfort again.

“Athos,” Clemence de Pomeroy greeted him warmly, “it’s been too long since your last visit. I’ve missed you.”

“I find myself in need of your company,” he said, brushing his lips against hers.

“I’ll get you a drink,” Clemence replied, going to a side board where a crystal decanter filled with liquid sat patiently. Athos sat down on the chaise, watching as her pale blue robe flowed around her body, her bare feet silent on the luxurious carpet. The de Pomeroy were one of the oldest noble families in Normandy, but the men were spendthrifts, living beyond their means and saddling their heirs with debts. Orphaned at an early age, Clemence had been sent to live with cousins, who turned her out when she’d disgraced herself with a local lord. She made her way to Madame Angel’s and quickly became a favorite of clients and Madame Angel herself, who gave Clemence greater responsibilities in helping with the management of the hotel, making her assistant to Gaspard, who valued the young woman’s quick wits and practicality.

Athos admired the vision of loveliness in front of him as Clemence poured two glasses of brandy, her auburn hair flowing down her back. She turned and padded back to the chaise, her open robe revealing a curvaceous figure. A small pair of underpants the same shade as the robe covered her mound, the color matching her eyes, which were forget me not blue, just like the flower pressed into the locket he wore around his neck. A pair of well-developed breasts swayed gently with her movements, the rosy nipples starting to tighten as she came toward him. Athos felt his cock stir, thinking that she was right, it had been a while since his last visit. He wasn’t a regular patron of Madame Angel’s establishment like Aramis and Porthos were, but on the occasions when his body made its needs known, or when Treville decided that his moodiness could remedied by an application of pussy, Athos made his way to the vine covered hotel to spend time with Clemence.

The first time he had seen her in the salon, he’d been surprised to see a familiar face. But he had come to appreciate having someone to talk to who knew him from before his marriage, someone who knew the unguarded young comte that he had once been and would understand what his confidences meant. And their bodies were sexually well suited, bringing each other intense pleasure when they fucked.

“Calvados,” Clemence said, handing him a glass of apple brandy. “It’s not vintage, but it’s good. Now,” she sat down next to him on the chaise, turning so he had a full view of her voluptuous body, “why don’t you tell me what brings you here.” She took a sip from her glass.

“Anne’s not dead,” Athos told her bluntly, looking into his glass.

Clemence’s eyebrows raised. “But I thought you hanged her for Thomas’ murder. What happened?”

“I didn’t stay to see her dead,” he confessed. “I just couldn’t bear the pain of watching the woman I loved die like that. After I left, Remi cut her down and revived her.”

“How do you know this?” Clemence asked.

“Anne told me when she set Folletiere on fire two nights ago,” Athos said, taking a sip of brandy.

“Well, that’s one way to react to being hanged,” Clemence commented drily. When Athos shot her a look, she smiled. “You know you weren’t happy in that house to begin with,” she pointed out reasonably, “Now that it’s gone, perhaps you can start to let go of the past.”

“How do I do that?” Athos asked. “When Anne died, it was like losing a part of myself. I’ve spent five years trying to live without her.”

“And failing miserably, I might add,” Clemence told him. “Getting drunk almost every night does nothing to help you. Perhaps now that Anne is no longer a ghost you can stop punishing yourself for hanging her.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Athos said baldly. “I put my duty to uphold the law ahead of my love for my wife. How can I not blame myself for that?”

“She killed your brother rather than be honest with you about her past. She had no faith in your love being strong enough to withstand the truth,” Clemence said gently, tucking her legs underneath her. “Athos, Anne’s own actions put that noose around her neck. Any other judge would’ve hanged her without a second thought.”

Athos inhaled deeply, letting Clemence’s words sink in. “Perhaps you are right,” he said slowly, running his fingers through her hair, “perhaps it is time to let the wound heal.”

Clemence leaned forward to brush her lips against his. “I’ll always be here to help you whenever you need it,” she said, her eyes meeting his.

  
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, his hand moving to caress her hip, “because I think I need your help right now.” Athos pulled her underpants down her legs, revealing Clemence’s smooth, hairless pudenda.  Smiling, he parted her nether lips and traced a path from her pearl to her slit, easing a finger inside to find her warm and wet. He used her moisture to tease the bud between her legs, and Clemence moaned with pleasure, moving her hips against his hand to get more of the sensation. Athos slipped two fingers back inside her pussy, stretching her gently, and set his thumb to her pearl. Clemence leaned over his lap to give him easier access to her channel while her hand deftly opened his breeches. She freed his thick cock, licking a stripe up his hardening length before taking the swollen head in her mouth. Athos closed his eyes and let his head tip back as her soft lips moved up and down on his heated skin.

 

****

 

Athos had never been one of those men who pursued every woman in sight or one who made a game out of ruining the reputations of innocent young women. He had been raised to revere the chivalric code of honor, protecting those weaker than himself, and fighting against injustice. He behaved toward women with courtesy and respect in every way. But he wasn’t a monk either. In the modest household of twenty servants there were three - Rohese, one of the dairy maids, Jozeline, the still room maid, and Nathalie, one of the kitchen maids – who regularly joined the young comte in his bed at night to provide him with intimate services. The young women were willing, their liege lord being a handsome and kind man, but also because pleasing him usually meant a bonus in pay, and Athos had made provision for good dowries to be provided to them when they decided to marry.

When he found himself desiring company for the night, Athos told his valet Thibault which companion he wanted. The chosen girl would come to his chamber and disrobe, revealing buxom curves, and climb into the well-furnished bed. The two of them would spend the night intimately entangled, bodies moving together in the rhythm as old as time, both enjoying the orgasms brought on by the other’s ministrations. Athos was content with this arrangement and was in no hurry to alter it by taking a wife.

But everything changed when he met Anne. He had gone to Rouen on business, and had left the office of his solicitor when he saw her, looking at wares in the goldsmith’s stall. It was like being struck by a thunderbolt. He went over to where she was and introduced himself, drinking in the sight of her. She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, with dark brown hair piled on top of her head and clear green eyes with tiny flecks of gold. Even her imperfections, like the small gap in her front teeth, were beautiful. She told him she was new to Rouen and didn’t know anyone, so he offered to squire her around and show her the sights. They spent the next three days going around the entire city, with Athos taking her to see all that Rouen had to offer. Athos was intoxicated by this most beautiful creature, so much so that when they returned to the inn where she was staying, he asked her to marry him. She laughed, thinking he was joking. Her laughter quieted when she saw the look on his face.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” she said, looking into his eyes.

“Very,” he replied, willing her to accept his proposal.

“Alright,” she said, her eyes luminous as she brushed her lips against his.

They raced, breathless and giggling, to the nearest chapel, rousing the priest from sleep to perform the rite. In front of witnesses hastily gathered from the tavern nearby, they pledged their troth to each other, promising to love each other for better or worse, in sickness and in health. When the priest pronounced them husband and wife, Athos pulled Anne into his arms and kissed her passionately. Back at the inn, their wedding night was the most erotic encounter he had ever experienced. They tore at each other’s clothes, mouths devouring each other as they fell back on the bed. They fucked each other hard and fast, bodies moving with animal instinct, crying out when they reached the moment of ecstasy. Afterward, Athos laid a gentle kiss on her forehead before falling into a deeply sated slumber.

The next morning, he loaded her belongings onto a small cart attached to his horse. As they journeyed through the countryside on the way back to Folletiere, Anne’s arms wrapped around his waist from behind to keep her balance, he pointed out all the things he loved about the Norman countryside. As they passed through the old stone gateposts, the servants came out to greet them and to see the new comtesse. Seeing how much their lord loved his new bride, and how kind and gentle the beautiful lady was, the whole household, including Athos’ former bedmates, welcomed the new arrival with open arms. Anne slipped gracefully into her new role of lady of the manor, and everyone on the de la Fere lands fell under her spell. One who did not was Catherine, the woman to whom Athos’ father had betrothed him when he was eleven. Athos had never felt anything toward Catherine other than what a brother felt for a sister, and since one can’t force the heart to feel something it doesn’t, his heart found the one that it wanted to love more than anything in the world, to bond with until the end of time. In order to save face for everyone involved, Athos arranged with Catherine’s father for her to marry Thomas. So Athos and Anne settled down to enjoy months of domestic bliss in their own piece of Paradise.

And then it all came crashing down. Thomas was dead, stabbed by Anne in the drawing room, claiming that he had tried to force himself on her. Athos was stunned, unable to figure out how such a thing had come to pass. And then they brought him Thomas’ papers, detailing Anne’s life as a thief, who had fled Paris to avoid execution for stealing relics from a church. And like Adam and Eve being cast out of Eden, he and Anne were thrown into the wilderness. Athos’ heart was breaking in his chest, so he fell back on his upbringing, the reserves of familial responsibility and duty that had been inculcated in him from the day he was born. The law required that Thomas’ death be atoned for, so Athos called for a priest and the executioner, the blacksmith Remi, to set up a makeshift gallows. As the local justice of the peace, Athos was required to attend the execution, even though the last thing he wanted was to see the woman he loved die. He left once Remi pulled the cart away and Anne’s body pulled the rope taut, returning to the house to drink himself into oblivion. The next morning, he called Thibault and told him that he was giving up his title, and to shutter the house and release the servants to find new positions. Three days later, Athos was on the road to Paris to join the cavalry under Captain d’Essarts. D’essarts saw the talent of his newest recruit and immediately sent him with a letter of recommendation to Captain Treville, who commissioned him into the Musketeers.

 

****

 

Athos moved his hand faster inside Clemence’s pussy, stroking her sweet spot. Clemence pumped her hips as she fucked his hand and her moans of pleasure created vibrations that caressed his cock inside her mouth. Athos groaned thickly and pushed her over the edge, feeling her walls squeeze his fingers as she came. Before her convulsions dimmed he let himself come, unleashing a stream of seed into Clemence’s mouth. Her jaw worked as she swallowed the milky liquid, gently tugging on him like a babe at the breast to drain him thoroughly. When the last drop was gone, she raised herself up, tossing her hair out of the way.

“Let’s go to bed,” she said throatily, licking her lips. Kicking away her unnecessary underpants, she rose from the chaise, holding out her hand and leading him over to the soft bed. Slipping out of her robe, she stretched out on the bed and watched as Athos undressed, revealing a sleek, muscular body honed by years of hard training. Athos joined her on the bed, pulling her close to him, nestling her in the crook of his arm with her head on his chest. After a few minutes, Athos broke the silence.

“When Anne held her knife to my throat, she said that Thomas was a fool and a hypocrite, that she killed him to protect our love,” he said, looking into the fire roaring in the fireplace.

“Well,” Clemence replied, lifting her head to look at him, “Thomas wasn’t the brightest of men. You know that. And he did have a mean streak that he was very good at hiding under that handsome face of his. He wouldn’t have had a problem using whatever hold he had over someone to make them do what he wanted. And women who are not what society decrees that they should be are especially vulnerable to blackmail.”

Athos let her words sink in as he stared into the fire. “There was a point when I told her to slit my throat. I didn’t want to keep living in this hell that I created for the past five years. I just wanted everything to end.”

“Why didn’t she?” Clemence asked.

“She hesitated when she saw her locket around my neck. Then D’artagnan returned to the house and dragged me from the flames,” Athos told her. “Anne rode off somewhere, I don’t know where she went.”

“Perhaps it’s better this way,” Clemence said. “Now you can start to learn how to live again.”

Athos kissed Clemence’s forehead and together they settled down to sleep. For the first time in a long while, Athos’ dreams were untroubled. There were none of the nightmarish scenes that had so often plagued his sleep, the ones that made it preferable to drink himself into a stupor so he wouldn’t have to see again Anne holding the bloody knife, Thomas dead on the floor, see the words declaring Anne guilty of theft. Worst of all was the look in her eyes as she handed the nosegay to the priest, the icy cold look of reproach as she stared into the distance and the noose went around her neck. But for once, Athos dreamed of none of that. He simply closed his eyes and drifted off.

The sound of a rooster crowing woke him out of his sleep. He looked around slowly as it took him a moment to recognize Clemence’s suite. Beside him, Clemence’s breathing was soft and even. Athos smiled as his eyes moved over her bountiful curves, thinking how enjoyable it would be to ease her on to her back. She would be drowsy and soft with sleep, not really in a condition to lecture him. He was about to reach for her when she stirred and stretched slightly.

“You’re up early,” she drawled lazily, looking with great interest at his cock standing straight out from his body.

“And you’re warm and soft,” he said, pushing her back against the pillows and moving between the thighs she had opened wide for him. He eased two fingers into her wet pussy as she reached for his hard length to pump him fuller. When they were both ready, Athos rubbed his cockhead against her slit, easing into the silky smooth passage that fit him like a glove. He buried himself to the hilt, watching as his cock opened her body to his invasion.

“You know,” Clemence said, arching her back against the delicious sensation of him stretching her pussy, “I think you do some of your best work in the morning.”

Athos reached out to squeeze a full breast. “That’s when your pussy’s at its wettest,” he told her, “and when you make that delightful little sound when you come.” Bracing himself above her, he began to move, pulling out until just his tip remained inside her, then slamming back in with a force that made her luscious breasts bounce. Athos increased the pace of his thrusts, stroking deep as Clemence rocked her hips to take him as far as she could.

“Oh God, yes,” she moaned, pumping her hips faster, “I love it when you fuck me like this. You feel so good.” Clemence looked up at Athos as she felt his testes slap against her outer sex and saw that his armor was back in place. Last night he had opened a door to her and let her see his vulnerability, but now that door was firmly closed. But Clemence didn’t mind. She knew that there would never be anything between them other than friendship and fucks and was willing to be the confidante he needed. The sound of damp skin slapping against each other as Athos plunged in and out between her thighs filled the room, and they rocked their way toward release. Ever the gentleman, Athos made sure Clemence came first, changing the angle of his entry so he brushed her sweet spot. Clemence’s mouth opened in a soundless cry as her orgasm claimed her, her pussy clenching around Athos’ cock again and again. When he was sure she was too far gone, Athos thrust into her hard and groaned as his cock expelled hot seed into her channel. They smiled at each other as their bodies finished the intimate convulsions.

Clemence made a disappointed moue as Athos slowly eased himself out from between her thighs and rose from the bed. Staying in her reclined position, legs spread wide so he had a clear view of her pussy, she watched as he washed and dressed in his charcoal colored uniform. She smiled as he moved around the suite, enjoying the afterglow of a great fuck, thinking that they really should do this more often. When he came to the side of the bed, she rose up on her knees to give him a goodbye kiss.

“Thank you,” Athos said as their lips brushed together, “for being here when I needed to talk.”

“Of course,” Clemence replied softly. “Don’t be afraid to come more often, even if it’s not to talk.”

Athos kissed her one last time before turning and leaving the suite. The hall was silent, all the occupants of the hotel still in bed with the evening’s clients. Athos descended the marble stairs to walk through the empty salon, going to the table where Gaspard was enjoying his morning tartine. Athos handed the steward his payment, which Gaspard accepted with a nod. He donned his hat as he descended the stairs to the ground floor entrance. He nodded to the footmen, who went to fetch his horse. Athos mounted as the gate was opened and rode through the city back to the garrison, feeling better than he had in a long time.


End file.
